


There Is A Light That Never Goes Out

by tendresettroubles



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Canon Era, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-26
Updated: 2020-06-26
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:40:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24927091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tendresettroubles/pseuds/tendresettroubles
Summary: It's about fighting, it's about change, it's about believing in something so much for so long that it happens. But most of all, it's about protecting each other.
Relationships: Bahorel/Jean Prouvaire
Comments: 9
Kudos: 13
Collections: "I'm scared but won't admit it so you take my hand"





	There Is A Light That Never Goes Out

“Bahorel?” 

A muffled grunt was all that escaped the man’s lips — his eyes were too focused on Gavroche’s running form to have mind for anything else, least of all forming coherent sentences. 

“Bahorel, he’ll be okay,” Jehan said quietly as they walked up to their friend and placed one hand on his arm, willing the gesture to be soothing. The tension in Bahorel’s shoulders was unmissable; it had built up more day after day, as though he knew deep down that it was only a matter of time before they all fell, one after the other. Only Bahorel had never been of the pessimistic sort, and so he had never voiced any of these doubts or concerns when they pertained to les Amis: he trusted and believed in Enjolras enough, as they all did. Jehan knew this, and it seemed as though it was only with Gavroche that Bahorel allowed himself to express any kind of concern. Gavroche was sticking around for the same reason Grantaire did: the people, the solidarity, a patched-up family better than the blood relations either of them knew. Gavroche, however, had something Grantaire didn’t: a flicker of revolution within him that bound him even tighter to les Amis, and les Amis held him right back. He represented everything they fought for, a coming generation that would otherwise be born and grow up in poverty under the reign of a hard-hearted monarch. When they took a stand, they did it for him. Change would come by way of a scrawny eleven-year-old with mischief in his eyes and a strong penchant for pilfering.

“That kid’ll get run over one of these days,” Bahorel said, tearing his eyes from the street corner behind which Gavroche had disappeared. “Or worse, shot.” He frowned, as though noticing something that was no longer in sight. “He shouldn’t be wearing that cockade. Makes him a target.” 

“He’s been doing this his entire life, he knows how to fend for himself, you know.” Jehan willed their words to be reassuring, but they seemed to have the opposite effect. 

“He shouldn’t have to,” retorted Bahorel. “He should have parents to go home to at the end of the day. Sleep in a real bed, have more than just— just breadcrumbs for dinner, for fuck’s sake,” he went on, throwing his hands up in exasperation. Jehan looked at him, unable to find things to say because every word coming out of his mouth was true. Gavroche did deserve much better than the cards he was dealt, but they knew, perhaps a little too well, that there was nothing to be done.

“Sorry,” Bahorel said eventually. “It’s been a stressful couple of days. It’ll be fine.” 

“You care about the kid,” Jehan said. “And you’re worried about him. That’s hardly something to apologise for.” 

“It’s fine,” Bahorel repeated, his voice rough, almost as though it was difficult for him to come to terms with Jehan’s words. “I just want him to be safe.” 

“Yeah,” Jehan said as they linked their hand with his, giving it a slight squeeze. “He will be. He’ll be okay. No one gets hurt when you’re watching over them.” They believed in Bahorel with every fibre of their being, and this was reflected in their tone by an unusual degree of confidence. However uncertain their lives had become, Bahorel had always been a steady presence, whether he had meant to or not.

This drew a tentative smile from Bahorel as he squeezed back and looked at Jehan, worry turning to misty optimism in his eyes. “That would be nice, wouldn’t it?” 


End file.
